"viewed" poems
It's a plan in itself,
Not an open invitation for suggestions
To go on long walks, or dancing,
Or paint-balling, or take a drive
Down to the beach.
It doesn't mean I am free
To do one of the hundreds of tasks
You decide are more important,
In an attempt to fill my day
With a different kind of meaning.
Today I am doing nothing,
Because I have become lost,
In a world where doing something, anything
Is so expected of ourselves and each other
That simply doing nothing is viewed
As a waste of time.
We so rarely have opportunity
To have the conversations in our heads
That determine who we really are,
As we watch the moments floating past,
Lying under the stars.
Today I am doing nothing,
Please understand that what I desire,
Is silent doorbells, unknocked doors
And that the phone doesn't ring
As I curl up by the fire.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 4:35 PM UTC
yesterday i saw dolphins
i swam with dolphins
their black knife jackknife dorsal-whatevers
slicing the water, scalpels into flesh,
disappearing, reappearing, disappearing,
reappearing
a herd of silent Lamborghini cracking jokes at my expense
(looks plural to me)
yesterday i saw dolphins
i chatted with an old man
who said they're laughing all the time, diving for *******
"Oh yeah, we get dolphins here,"
he might as well tell me Jesus lives there, too
or some kind of black magic came through
making these creatures appear
his nonchalance is weird
yesterday i swam with dolphins
well, saw, not swam, viewed, not caressed
but
all i want to do is see them
all i want to do is breathe with them
all i want to do is float in the same sea with them
my heart ripped to pieces in appreciation
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
In my shyness . . .
At times I retreat to my "shell,"
Clinging to the security of being alone.
In my shyness . . .
I may attempt to merge with my surroundings--
To be ignored, unnoticed, a silent voice rarely heard.
In my shyness . . .
I can feel completely alone,
Although surrounded by people.
In my shyness . . .
I'm perceived as having a padlocked soul--
And few try to gain entry into my realm.
In my shyness . . .
Few will dare venture to really know me--
To hear my quiet voice or to really try to understand.
In my shyness . . .
I can have a myriad of words to say,
Yet, my sealed lips will not release them.
In my shyness . . .
The words I do speak will at times be jumbled,
And I'll feel worse for having spoken them.
In my shyness . . .
I will be viewed as "stuck up" and unfriendly,
Labeled by the presumption of a troubled past.
Yet, despite my shyness . . .
I will at times emerge from my "shell,"
And you may catch a glimpse of who I am.
And despite my shyness . . .
I may put on a good "front,"
Disguising my innermost insecurities.
Despite my shyness . . .
A select few will manage to penetrate these "walls,"
With the sharing of time and the evolving of trust.
My shyness . . .
Frequently unrecognized, seldom understood--
A shackle, a haven, a veil.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
Here comes a fire burning, put it out with water and you'll save from drowning. Yes with all that indian pride, and ghostly tails beside. You're still just a wolf howling. Back at that mountain side, the gold down in the creek just waiting. Now it is the time!
Ideas just keep spinning, thoughts and feelings viewed like subliminal waves to the brain. the mythos enchanting, it all is believing. Now, taking up the arrows to steal a look at your master. Wishing harder. oh but your troubles are there, and your devotion unpared. So tell me, do you still want satisfaction? I could do without the bashing. Remember well the planet's storming cloud and know that you are found. The whisper you hear is showing, a dream of all your phoebos. The globe palmed and the stars your home.
Wait. Don't look anyfurther, all you need is laughter; fixing any disaster. They call it, silence. And it stole my brother. My friend, even the hot glow that once filled my soul. How could I not know that it mattered? Wait, do you hear that sound? It's louder than before! Am I normal? Of course not! I'm as unique as the space that falls between leaves! The universe is everything, Artemis hunting, Apollo flirting. Now do you see what I mean?
Your light is reflecting and I sink in the white moon. Oh Sirius the dog star of your master fallen. I know the pain of loving. Embodied with the essencee of apparent contradictions, I go on searching. The pack always watching. Life feeds on Life.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:43 AM UTC
They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder
But sometimes I ask myself, how can this be?
Cause when I look with my eyes, I only start to feel resent
and I begin to despise, the things I realize like
how my women of color have been simplified, and hypserxualized
how the black woman's body has been used and abused and now
It personifies, sexuality and promiscuity, out of all the things media feeds us these are some of the worst lies
You see cause black women are queens, and when white culture saw their worth, they were rattled
They couldn't help but try to minimize and de-legitimize, and put a guise over the eyes of all that viewed her
She is not just a big *** big lips or hips
She is the mother of humanity, in her essence from her hair, to lips to her fingertips she is a Queen, and she is to be respected.
And I will die for her honor, We will not go back into slavery days, I will not stand here while she gets up on stage naked and her body is dissected, and her soul, her essence neglected, her heart, her mind infected.
From these queens come the workers, the Kings, without the black woman we have no past and we have no future
We must protect the black woman, for she is sacred like scripture.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC
The epidemic of conformity consumes all
Children play by board game rules
Stifled by the world to paint a proper picture
They draw flowers of red with stems of green
Fields of wildflowers viewed as weeds enveloped in insecticides
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet
That is a rainbow, in that order alone
We are taught to live by the colors in a box of eight crayons
But even so, those colors cannot make a proper rainbow
A rainbow should be praised if drawn in mixed-breed hues
That field of flowers, natures pallet
We should begin with a box of 124 and grow infinitely
Where lilac dragons can live in cherry trees
Where those waist-high weeds hide the predator from the prey
For where would we be without cops and robbers, or hide and seek
In a world where out of sight incites widespread panic
Children's laughter in the sun is slowly silenced by the rules
Instead, embrace the joy and encourage creativity
We should harbor imagination and develop unreality
For it is there that is born the ideas that will form the future
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 10:59 AM UTC
Awesome power is it natures wrath
To devastate all in its path
Twisters, winds driving rain
Leaves no place to look the same
In a way as it gathers pace
Never in a human place
Hidden killer out at sea
Land urge where it wants to be
Building strength, gathers speed
To destroy any breeds
The one i recall in this worlds arena
This phenomenon called Hurricane Katrina
Louisiana, New Orleans
Was subject by one so mean
Her awesome might hammers home
We are not on this world alone
The sights viewed all around the world
Natures torture from her living swirl
To consternate these Southern Lands
The rains and winds spew from her glands
The aftermath and splatter view
Killed so many, survivors few
City blocks submerged and broken
A legacy of natures token
New Orleans Jazz continues to play
Although nature won this day
Resilient folks, awesome place
Human nature won this race
Undercover we will rise
But in mother nature we will not despise
She gives us life, we share her hope
To view her strength, we can not gloat
Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 4:46 PM UTC
Endorphin showers for hours
Crash my waves of sorrow and bring me muscles to shine on the world viewed as imperfect.
Its the happiness I never want to leave but it drifts,
its white cloud up and up,
Contact high as it passes my friends I want to share
To care for you all
Vibe in this opposite of ominous
parade bound for cheer, without beer just extracted hormones.
I’ll twirl you like a pencil
dizzy
yet gay, for a day, where I can make someone
you
Happy:)
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
At seventeen I am almost grown.
Almost old enough to own a home of my own.
Yet, i remain viewed as young, naive.
Told I am too young to know what i believe.
At seventeen the world drowns me in a sea of questions it doesn't want the answers to.
At seventeen everyone thinks they know whats best for me,
"....grow up, be a part of your society."
Don't worry about happiness that's a selfish priority.
"...grow up."
But at seventeen its hard to differentiate between hopes and reality.
It's sad you can do anything you believe,
but i fear it's a lie, we've all been teased.
The proof?
On the streets.
An endless stream of people who've had their dreams seized.
I dread the thought of this stream consuming me.
Me?
Me?
At seventeen I don't know if I am me.
Or just everything that's ever been crammed down my throat into a part of my brain I cant pronounce.
At seventeen I've fallen down a rabbit hole.
The queen of hearts pounding me with every cliche ideal every adult has told me to believe.
The white rabbit screaming to me the time.
17..18..19
I just want to leave.
I am only seventeen.
But if not this rabbit hole where?
Just a new nightmare?
Filled with symbolism I should get.
Things I should know.
Seventeen is plenty of time to grow...
grow up.
But I am only seventeen.
I am only seventeen.
Am only seventeen.
Only seventeen.
Seventeen.
I am seventeen.
At seventeen the world says I am almost grown.
At seventeen I am scared to have a home of my own.
At seventeen I question everything I ever knew.
But remain unchanged.
Remain floating through life without a clue.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
I met with a man today,
although
not so much a man as….
a boyish adult.
He told me he liked me,
or perhaps “loved” would be
a better description.
I was showered with things that most
people would love to hear constantly:
Compliments.
I…..am not one of those people.
Now, that’s just the oversimplified version.
A more detailed explanation would go like this:
I met with a man today,
although
not so much a man as…
a boyish adult.
We went out for lunch,
and left there around five hours later.
For the first three,
we were doing all right.
Managing to have pleasant conversation
we even discussed our views on religion.
The last two hours
however
I am not sure how I managed to endure.
He told me he had "fallen in love with me",
and that every word I spoke had him falling deeper.
I explained that I have absolutely zero interest in any such things
*(love, romance, all that jazz other people crave,
you know how it is)*
I however, am not capable of feeling those sorts of attractions.
(don't want to be either)
As I spoke, he would reply by saying he was falling harder...
that I was pretty, handsome, cute, beautiful….etc.
Not a word of what I said went into his head.
***And I knew it from the expression on his face,
that I was only being viewed as something to conquer.
To…..”fix”.***
That made the compliments even worse.
***I hate compliments to begin with,
at least ones in regards to my appearance.
For me, they are one of the worst triggers
on my extremely long list.
So is being treated like I’m broken.***
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
~~~
our perception is
as the full moon
viewed through
SUNGLASSES
(c) soulsurvivor
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
This is my world, this is my world.
All men and women wear eyeglasses.
All truths we are tasked to seek on dusted glasses
Of windowpanes behind the windowpanes.
Ah, we see clearer, said the top, we see better
If things are viewed on top, by top, the top
Refuses to see, they refuse the refuse.
Screen them, screen that. They will not see
Them, believe us, trust our hindsight, we have foresight
Bring us the microscope, that magnifying glass.
This is our world, you’re living in our world.
Wear that eyeglasses, we customized them for you.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 11:13 PM UTC
I see her sitting over there
another's arms around her waist.
Sunlight shimmers through golden hair,
bodice ruffled and unlaced.
Surprise sits obvious on her face,
over the distance where I walk
it shouts to me of felt disgrace.
A story told no need for talk.
I look down staring at the ground
feeling awkward as I continue
not raising eyes to what I found
like curtains drawn across a window.
My footsteps quicken with the pace,
footpath blurs with constant view.
My head can't raise to see her face
because I don't know what to do.
I hear her calling, voice a quiver,
I hear her tread as she doe's chase
Almost a trot I do deliver
trying to clear from this place.
I manage to evade her follow,
thinking of the scene I saw.
Her cheating ways are cruel and hollow
as I viewed her frolic on the floor.
What do I say when next I see
her arm in arm with my best friend.
But if these words I say to he
will cause him harm that may not end.
So I have given them some room
to sort themselves in their own way.
It's she that must hand out the gloom
from her own words then she must pay.
As for this secret I say nought
I shall not give her game away
for she's not the only one I've caught
for my friend does play away.
I do not judge the things they do
and best that I do not involve
myself with what they both go through.
It's for themselves both to resolve.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
Picture of girls face: 10 likes
Picture of girls face featuring slightly/damn near totally visible ***** bumps: 5000 likes.
What the **** people, its the SAME GIRL.
Her **** are there in BOTH PICTURES yo.
But due to the difference in likes, there's no doubt as to what the true focal point of the photographs are.
Honestly, I'd much rather see a picture of a ladies face instead of one featuring the awesome breasticles.
Because, while those **** do, without a doubt, totally rock, they should also be respected and like, viewed as something special for only that certain special person to see.
CONTAIN YOUR **** YOUNG FEMALES FOR THE LOVE OF ******* GOD.
You aren't attracting very respectable fellows by being so flaunty.
People that are into you only for your tits/various other dank body parts you may or may not have, will most definitely end up hurting the beautiful blood pumping anomaly that lies behind said ****
I mean it's your body, do what you want to do with it, but there are more then enough **** bouncing around the world right now to clog our minds with sexuality and distract us from accomplishing things as it is.
WE DON'T NEED YOUR **** IN OUR FACE.
not to mention, some day you're going to find a man or a woman that's going to love you for the super radical person that you are, and to them, your **** will just be like, the most awesome bonus, and by covering up just a bit more for all the numb skulled hard dicked mother ******* this world seems to have an endless supply of, you'll make that special person feel so so so so so so sooooo much more special when THEY get to see them.
You know what i'm saying?
We're in a society where your **** can take you further then your personality can and it's ******* ********
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
An ode seems appropriate
To the classical style
Of the columns and the domes
Above the green court.
Many things have adorned that dome:
Squad car, fire truck, droid, and phone
But today, viewed in a mind's eye—sunlight.
But as were that phone booth still apparent
From afar it now calls, and now I shall answer.
Over the river, and through the urban jungle,
Through the sky, 400 miles, as the airliner flies
But worth every inch, rod, meter or smoot.
It beckons to the mind and to the heart;
It beckons to the soul of a scholar.
Were I less knowing I might think not
That light fell from above onto that dome.
But rather, that the hemisphere
Gave forth the blazing light
ebullience of photons, amidst
Torrents of knowledge.
Its hallowed halls, numbered precisely,
Soon no longer a forbidden temple shall be
Instead, I shall tread there, such as I am
Learn from efforts I effect and others I see
O Halls, I shall greet thee, O Tunnels in winter
Traverse and find warmth to keep body to task
For knowledge, always, comes with a high price
In joules, dollars, cents, days and hours of rest
Long nights turn to dawns, nose to the grindstone
Maybe just one more tool; okay, maybe another.
But brother meets brother, and sister meets sister
On both sides of the river, and the work gets done.
Whether Greek or not, there is community here
A problem, or a set of them, is always seen through.
As the sun now rises, a new day sets in. In a few
hours of my life I will rise to these challenges.
With a chirping, I shall cross the paths that I come to,
Enter the halls .. and my journey shall begin.
~ D. B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
his rugged eyes tore his soul,
desperate for a break.
He likes the poison it drips off,
more desperate for its intake.
He seems.... hungry..
but it's not only lack of food.
It's the distance he walks between who he is,
and how he's really viewed.
He acts angry, and he is,
but it's at that part he can't obey.
It keeps ripping up his notes,
so that his real words can never stay.
So he doesn't have thoughts of his own,
or a body, and around his neck?
A vial that keeps getting tighter,
seeping chemicals within to cause regret-
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 10:44 PM UTC
It hurt, my friend, I don't know why
but when I showed you my new found pride
you asked quickly of my minds state and why.
Drunk? Me!? No! This symbol simply proves so.
I'm viewed as average, not good enough.
Just this shows my inner pride.
It helps me knock those comments made by those
on the other side of the glass...
so why must you make one just as crass?
I will prove to you, one I once knew well,
that I'll shed and change - that way easily then
can I reveal just how beautiful a Swan I really am
I'll fly away and soar above your petty comments,
Friend? You were the one who grew distant,
you were the one who couldn't see past the dirt.
Yet here I am, my wings expanded,
Everything changing around me and fast...
I'll fly off on my own path, and show I'm the swan
I truly am.
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 11:24 PM UTC
‘Shadow of the day’
Play and play and release the locks of this attraction.
Sway and displace the diamond sealed in the concrete.
It shone and sparkled immense value.
Could’ve never ended and remained in your zone.
An amazing soul, rare and simply beautiful.
Replace this with thoughts known,
You pure gold, wish forces could entwine this desire not a norm.
Came packaged in a lovely form.
I viewed your sense and values and even butterflies fluttered and passed out from your flood of casual injection of euphoria.
Seems too futile…sadly the world hardly awards love.
Will it sub-side, found a real prince of note…maybe it could’ve been groomed and grown with the days.
Is it possible to remove such a being from my rooms of thought?
Will it get better or worse with time?
Hardly unreal when lips only recite our memories.
Make what’s engulfed me in your aura die,
It’s not needed, not happening again.
Why is it now…over and over again.
The stenches of my lust for you,
My longing to be in your presence.
For once, can I be blessed with treasure like you.
Shiny and rare…beautiful and valuable.
Regrets of loving so easily has now become a punishment.
Again I need to mend the pieces,
The millions of pieces broken by heavy disappointment.
Why did those words you said colour my ears,
How can you have made me feel liked yet you saw past me.
Haven’t my feet walked this hurt before.
Seems things are too heavy…
Never golden or maybe their lame gestures have rusted my heart.
Hardly any good in the possibilities, I hate these realities.
I’m fed up with these warriors who easily pull on my heart-strings.
Where shall I rest?
Find comfort and acceptance from the evil rest.
I saw sanctuary in your eyes,
Pictured a loving soul and felt a honourale being from your touch.
Loosen my grip on what will never happen.
Too raw…yet the heart has become immune.
Now mind and energy drowns in gloom.
20years of living…still I believe in love.
Still I want to believe there’s one for me.
Understanding and equally loving.
But…sadly there’s been no luck.
Maybe, just maybe it’s my fault.
Maybe I reveal too much and have them regretting they laid eyes on me.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
*Pride, personified, Satan.
Lucifer's pride his desire to compete with God
his fall from Heaven, and his resultant transformation into Satan.
Pride personified, but what of us, the humans,not Angels
What pride are we guilty of?
The original and most deadly of the seven.
The original and most serious of the seven deadly sins,
the source of the others
Pride is sometimes viewed as excessive or as a vice.
Pride, Dante's definition was "love of self perverted to hatred and contempt for one's neighbour", but
Pride involves exhilarated pleasure and a feeling of accomplishment.
What accomplishment?
That one is better than others?
Our social and economic standing?
Our supercilious ego's?
A better house? The pride that comes with snobbery?
Our arrogance at believing in only ourselves?
Yet, through negativity,positivity can come of pride,
results from satisfaction with meeting personal goals;
Family, friends, education.
Amplified and multiplied, pride
takes a satisfied place in all our hearts.
A complex secondary emotion.
The first and strongest emotion being love
Love cannot be prideful
Yet, pride comes before a fall.
And we as humans fall in love*
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
I am a sculpture
Of life' beautiful scars
Frightening when viewed too close
Perhaps better glimpsed at from afar
Twisting wounds
Healed over scratches
The heart entombed by loves hand
Blood covered latches
Oh masterpiece
Of intentional cuts and scrapes
Purple raised blue bruises
Hidden carefully from the world
I employ delicate spiderweb curtains
And my sleight of hand illusion's
It is only the bearer who understands
Where the deepest wounds are hidden
Bitter tears in a deep bottomless chasm
The unforgettable kiss of affections contusions
These shadows must never be loosened
Forever restrained even by deception
Guarded by spiderweb curtains
And sleight of hand illusion's
All Rights Reserved@ Tammy M. Darby Jan.13, 2013
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
When you go camping,
and the world lifts itself from your shoulders
and the problems back home seem silly and irrelevant
human life, and
what you may have been trying to achieve
in your leather black ergonomic chair
and your dark polished wood desk
seems silly and irrelevant
The world is here, in the wood-pecker’s tap-tap-taping in the trees
the checkered calculated lines of the water being pulled to shore by the wind,
viewed from above
like the birds that push themselves into the tide and float
back to shore then push themselves out again.
the world is here,
forgotten by the city, and the construction worker’s crack-crack-crack of the hammer
the calculated system of traffic guided by flashing lights, turning signs and abrasive horns
from behind the wheel
where the man sits in a satin black suit and smooth leather car seat
sipping at his morning coffee, purchased for $2.25 and cradled by spring-loaded cupholders,
until he reaches for the silver handle of his glass office door, and stops
looking down at his brown-leather shoes that cut into the rounded bone on the side of his ankle
and decides,
time to go camping
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
It is often said that the cup can be viewed as half full or half empty
The fact is we should be able to agree on is
We all have a cup that can be filled
If we All tried to build another person up
Fill there cup
Instead of putting others down
which can drain ones own cup along with the other persons cup
If you meet another person who appears mean or insensitive or rude
perhaps their cup has been drained so much
They don't know how to fill it up again and are badly in need of having their cup refilled
A small compliment a little kindness, a smile could help fill up the cup again
A cup of friendship can go a long way and help another person have a better day
The world is full of hurting people needing to have their cup refilled
Seeing things from someone else's perspective is a good start
Is the glass half empty or half full, you can decide?
Have you raised your glass and tried to share a Cup of friendship
and filled another's cup today?
If not the present is a good time to start
If we all filled up the cup instead of emptying it
We would have a better world
Fill up the cup today
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
Ballerina stance leaner
porcelain poised demeanor
lined up for a chance at that old 500 gram repeater.
Yeah, a little firecracker,
a little fire eater.
Twiggy figure, ****** fire dome where her little wires teeter.
Excellent muse material
my ***** optics viewed ethereal
Beauty, and she knew it.
Arrogance.
Noted, duly.
Pittsburgh's resident fire ant, with a grace to match her face
And a whole crew of troglodytes racing to get a taste
So thanks Angela Chase;
I prefer the fantasy too.
And thanks to you my chickens won't be sleeping easy in their coup.
Loop Jabberwocky with Calligraphy
and dabbled in polygamy. purpose:
****** cyst bubbles to the surface.
Misinterpret the tongue touching and hand clutching,
you were baby girlie thumb-sucking
But thought more than twice about it when it came to dumb-fucking.
Pretty face: check
Depression: not yet
Appreciating phonemes, but still a nervous wreck
false carrot tops to bed, awkward with the ***** work.
Near waif redhead. Pittsburgh Boys. the city lurks
It's been a minute since the girl scouts got at me, I bought it.
Hop in the DeLorean tell Lauren that I'm off it.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 2:47 PM UTC
What is this thing,
This change in me,
What is this feeling,
That is happening to me?
This possessing of my spirit.
This seemingly lack of control,
That was not always so.
That a concerto slow turn,
Played and heard,
Renders me weak in the knees,
A sweet moment of human joy,
Or actual real grief,
Even viewed on a movie screen
Can tug at my heart so.
So too, a child’s sweet song,
Though sung off key.
A blazing sunset,
Orange and red,
A thrilling thing to behold.
Nature always a motivator,
All of these and more,
Pluck cords of my emotions,
Like the strings of a harp,
So easily reduce me to tears.
Not body shaking sobs mind you,
Just a slow gentle stream,
Nothing my sleeve can't deal with.
"Men don’t cry",
"Sensitivity is only for women",
Or so I have always been told.
Well it’s taken me a long time,
But I have concluded this bias,
Is a load of unadulterated Bull ****
‘Cause as it turns out,
I actually enjoy it.
And see no reason I shouldn't.
Not to mention,
It keeps my tear ducts open,
And free flowing.
In touch as I am with my feelings.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC